Cats Are Better Than People
by Shibalyfe
Summary: Filch learns why cats are so much better than people. This was written for The Houses Competition, Y5R3.


House/Team: Gryffindor

Class Subject: Care of Magical Creatures

Story Category: Standard

Prompt: [Character] Argus Filch

Beta: Seth and Tiggs

Word Count: 1679

A/N: WARNING: violence. This story was written for The Houses Competition, Y5R3.

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Cats Are Better Than People

Argus Filch woke to a light grey sky and quickly dashed out of bed. He hurriedly threw open his wardrobe and got dressed. He slowly slinked through the house, avoiding any of the creaky floorboards, before breaking out into a run once he reached the back door. He ran through the narrow streets, the clomping of his feet on the cobblestones echoed throughout the quiet village.

Argus eventually ran out of breath. Heaving, he clutched his chest and slid down the closet tree into a heap on the ground. His head was pounding, and he had a stitch in his side. He knew he was going to get into trouble for sneaking out at this hour, but he didn't care; he just had to get away from that stifling village. He turned away from the village below and leaned his head against the cold trunk of the birch tree. The light grey clouds in the sky relaxed him, and he began to feel more at ease. The sun slowly began to rise, but Argus stayed where he was.

He heard the owls before he saw them, their strong wings flapping in the distance. They flew above him and momentarily blocked the sun before swooping into the village. The owls parted, each going to their designated houses with a letter tied to its leg. Argus watched from his vantage point as the birds began to peck at the windows and coo at the people inside. Almost every house in the little wizarding village had an owl waiting to get inside and deliver that year's letter—every house except his. This had been exactly what he had wanted to avoid, but instead, he was transfixed. For the past two years, he had held onto hope that he would still get his Hogwarts letter, but now at thirteen, he knew his letter wasn't coming.

He sighed quietly as he stared back up into the sky. The sun was shining, and the wind was blowing his long hair across his face. It was going to be a beautiful day, but he wasn't going to be able to enjoy it. He folded his long limbs in on himself, resigned to remain there for a few hours. He knew the teasing and the whispers about him would be unbearable. Moreover, the other kids would no doubt be comparing their schedules and classes together, and he would be left out, as he had always been.

Argus had never really fit in with the other kids in his village. He was tall and always towered over the other kids, he was scrawny, and his teeth and nose were both crooked. His hair, no matter how much he washed and brushed it, was always oily and tangled. His parents didn't help him make any friends either; they were reclusive and kept to themselves. He had never fit in, but he had always hoped Hogwarts would be where he belonged, where he would make friends and happy memories. Instead, he felt bitter and alone with no chance of meeting new children.

He hung his head and wiped away a stray tear running down his cheek. He took a few more long breaths, trying to regain his composure, before stretching his limbs and heading back into the village. He was hurrying through the back alleys, trying not to be seen, when he heard a voice ring out.

"Hey, Filch," a menacing voice called out, and Argus flinched. "Get your letter this year?"

Argus ignored him and picked up his pace, but was stopped by a figure blocking his path.

The boy sneered at him, and he could feel the tension in his body begin to rise. His muscles were tense and he tried to look for an escape, only to see a group of boys forming a circle around him, pressing in on him. He held up his hands before quickly darting to the left and running as fast as he could down the alleyway. He got about twenty feet before a colored light hit him and his legs grew stiff. He fell in a pile on the dirt. He could hear the group of boys behind him, their laughter growing louder as they approached.

He felt rough hands on his arms as they hoisted him to his feet.

"Well since you don't have any other uses, you could at least make yourself useful to us, Squib!" one of the boys shouted in his face.

He was dragged to the nearest barn and thrown into a heap on the hay strewn floor. He tried to get away, but his legs were still locked and he was frozen stiff, unable to move.

The same boy who had yelled at him earlier walked over to him and jammed a shoe into his side. "Still immobilized; good spell work, Archie!" He slapped the boy on the back. "This will probably be the closest you ever get to magic, Filch."

He kicked Argus one more time in the side before gesturing to another boy who pulled him up to his feet again. Chains were attached to his wrists and thrown over the rafters, which they used to hoist him up and dangle him from the ceiling.

His eyes were wide as he saw the group of boys surrounding him, all with their wands pointed straight at him.

"Please, don't!" he screamed out.

"Shut up!" one boy yelled before casting a silencing charm on him.

"Listen, Filchy, there is no other use for you here; if you can't do magic, at least you can help us practice _ours_." He shot a Stinging Spell at him, and the other boys followed suit.

Filch was immobilized, hanging from the ceiling, and couldn't even scream for help. Tears spilled from his eyes and each spell that hit him increased his hatred for the boys and their magic.

Hours passed before the group of boys grew bored of torturing him. His tears had long run dry and his body was limp. He didn't see the faces of the boys anymore or even remember the names of the spells that they hit him with. He could no longer feel his arms or the sharp sting of the hexes. He was sure he was bleeding, but he no longer cared. They released him from the chains and he fell hard onto the floor. He stared up at the wooden ceiling and listened to the boys as they exited the building; when he was sure that they were all gone, he tried to get up and move, but found he still couldn't.

He heard a metallic clang and his heart started thudding in his chest again. Had the boys decided that they weren't done with him after all? He felt a nudge at his foot and closed his eyes. He felt another nudge at his hip and bit his lip, trying to stop himself from crying out in fear. He felt another nudge at his chin this time. He tried to turn away but still couldn't, the latest body binding charm not yet worn off. He felt another nudge but still refused to open his eyes. A heavy weight plopped onto his chest and a purring noise began to sound shortly after.

Argus waited a few more minutes before deeming it safe to open his eyes. There on his chest was a big, orange tabby. His legs were stretched in front of him and his head was buried in his chest; his eyes were closed and content. The cat didn't move and Filch couldn't do anything to stop it.

Slowly, feeling began to come back to his face and he could talk again. He tried to yell at the cat to get off of him, but it refused to budge. He soon gained feeling in his fingers. The cat quickly picked up on the use of his limbs and began to headbutt at his hands, demanding attention. He sighed heavily before obliging the cat and petting him behind the ears. With each stroke, Argus felt his anger begin to subside; the cat seemed to make him feel less broken than he was.

He slowly began to regain control over the rest of his body but he continued to sit and pet the cat until it was long after dark, and he knew that there wouldn't be anyone waiting to attack him outside. When he painfully rose to his feet, the cat meowed at him, angry at having been removed from his chest. Despite himself, he laughed.

He bent down one last time to give the cat a stroke behind the ears before cautiously peeking through the barn doors. When he was sure that the coast was clear, he quickly ran home.

As he approached, he saw his house was dark and his heart felt heavy. It appeared that his parents hadn't even been worried about where he was. He opened the back door quietly and slowly made his way to his bedroom again, avoiding the same loose floorboards he had that morning.

He slammed the door closed to his bedroom and slid down the wall. His body was heavy and sore. He didn't think he could ever step foot outside of his house again for fear of being attacked. He ran his bony hands through his greasy, bloody hair and hung his head low. He was contemplating sleeping on the floor so he didn't have to get up when he heard a quiet 'meow.'

He turned his head to see the tabby staring at him from where it was perched at the top of his bed. It meowed at him again before turning and curling into itself on the center of the bed. The gentle purring slowly filled the room. Argus smiled before getting undressed and ready for bed. He slid himself in beside the cat, which moved and settled himself in the center of his chest again.

Filch slowly began to stroke the cat and fell asleep with only one thought in his head, 'cats are better friends than people, anyway.'


End file.
